


I Will Teach You Better Manners

by Slow_Burn_Sally



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell & Related Fandoms, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, Dubious Consent, Face Slapping, Facials, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:00:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27100837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slow_Burn_Sally/pseuds/Slow_Burn_Sally
Summary: So yeah, I wrote a BDSM-style sex scene for Picture Me, Wanting You and then chose to go in a different direction. A fandom buddy of mine expressed an interest in reading that alternate scene. I went and found it, and it ends abruptly, mid sex scene, so I finished it and put it up here. Just random pornography. No plot. This was NOT beta read in the slightest.Also, I talked a big game about facials in Picture Me, Wanting You and never delivered, and I like to think I'm a woman of my word. Hope you enjoy!
Relationships: John Childermass/Henry Lascelles
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6





	I Will Teach You Better Manners

He surprised Lascelles then by getting up and clamboring out of bed. He returned only a few moments holding his only necktie. Lascelles’ eyes grew wide when he saw it. “Mind if I tie you up a little?” Childermass asked. 

“How pedestrian,” Lascelles remarked, endeavoring to sound bored, and Childermass decided then and there that he wouldn’t hold back. He’d been building a very wide catalogue of the things he’d wanted to do and say to this insufferable man for weeks now, and he’d be damned if Lascelles left this bed with this dignity intact. 

“Put your hands together in front of you, you posh, spoilt insufferable twat,” he said conversationally and watched as Lascelles complied, a pleased if somewhat apprehensive grin making its way across his face. 

He swiftly tied Lascelles’ wrists together, giving him wiggle room, but not enough space to free himself, then tied the other end to his bed frame, effectively hoisting Lascelles’ arms above his head, leaving his long, white body and stiff cock laid out in front of Childermass like some extra homoerotic Guido Reni painting. 

“What do I think of you?” He asked rhetorically. “I think you’re a brat. And a manipulative little shit, and I think you need some rough treatment to shake some of the fight out of you,” with that, he slapped Lasclles across the face. Enough to sting, but not enough to harm him. Lascelles gasped at the sudden sharp contact, but then his smug look returned. Childermass slapped him again, harder, and was pleased to see the man’s cock twitch in response. 

“You like that, don’t you, you horrid, privileged, spoilt little rich boy.” He climbed on top of Lascelles, straddling his hips, fighting the urge to moan as this brought their cocks together. He pinched one of Lascelles’ pale, pink nipples between his thumb and forefinger and watched as Lascelles gasped and arched his back while the man’s cock twitched again between them. 

He moved up, off and away from Lascelles crotch to straddle his belly, leaving his cock to hang unattended in the air and twisted both nipples at once in his fingers. Lascelles yelped and bucked, but he couldn’t do much, being that his arms were tied, and Childermass’ weight atop him kept him securely pinned to the bed. 

Childermass slapped him again, harder this time, while his other hand still held one of Lascelles’ nipples in a tight grip. He was very pleased to hear Lascelles let out another surprised gasp, followed by a low, ragged noise. “I’m thinking perhaps since you were stupid enough to let me tie you up, I should bring myself off on your face and leave you unsatisfied,” Childermass mused. “It would be a fitting punishment for how you tried to get me sacked. What do you think darling? Shall I come all over your face?”

Lascelles had no response, he glared up at Childermass, his chest red and heaving, his cheeks, red and flushed with the slaps he’d received and his obvious arousal. Childermass brought a hand to his own cock and began stroking himself, slowly, indolently, while staring at Lascelles. Lascelles’ eyes were drawn inexorably to the movement of Childermass’ hand. He thrust up with hips and whined, clearly frustrated by the lack of attention to his own cock. 

Childermass leaned over and fished in his bedside drawer, returning with some lube. He uncapped the small plastic bottle and poured a portion of the liquid into his palm before discarding it and slicking himself with his hand. He moaned at the added pleasure from the slickness of the lube as he gazed down into Lascelles’ dark, lust blown eyes. “I’m not going to last long,” he said, already breathless and pumping his hips up into his own hand a little. “Your pretty face is going to make me come soon.” 

Lascelles, uncharacteristically speechless, let out a low moan and bucked his hips up again, trying in vain to find some friction, some relief for his aching prick, but it met only with empty air. 

Taking pity on him, Childermass scooted down lower on the man’s stomach until he could reach behind him with one, lube slicked hand and stroke him slowly. It was an awkward position and his strokes on Lascelles’ prick were arhythmic and halting, but the man let out a gasp and a sharp cry upon finally getting some relief.

“I’m wondering,” Childermass mused, as he worked both himself and Lascelles’ with slow, deliberate strokes, “If I should let you come first. Or if I should finish on your face before I let you get off.”

“Fuck you” said Lascelles, but there was no anger in it, just breathless, urgent need. “Oh...fuck,” he moaned as Childermass twisted his hand a little at the top of his next stroke, causing the red haired man to arch and groan beneath him. 

“I can’t keep stroking you while I come on your face,” Childermass continued. “So I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you a countdown from ten. If you can’t come before I say the number one, you’ll be left with a hard cock and come all over your face and have to wank yourself off while I watch.”

“You bastard. You fucking...ahh jesus!” Lascelles appeared not to have the wherewithal to come up with an appropriate insult as Childermass concentrated on stroking the other man more swiftly and with more purpose and slowed his hand on his own cock. 

“Ten,” Childermass said. Lascelles moaned and writhed. “Nine.” He stroked faster, squeezing a little harder and was pleased when Lascelles gasped in response. “Eight. Seven.” 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Lascelles gasped and bucked his hips up again into Childermass’ clumsy hand. 

“Six. Five. Four.” Childermass kept the countdown advancing at a steady pace, matching each number with approximately four strokes of his hand. He knew the urgency and the pressure would decrease if he slowed down, and he wanted Lascelles to _feel_ that deadline approaching. “Three.” Lascelles gasped again and made a small sobbing noise, his face and chest were flushed red, his eyes wide and moving back and forth between Childermass’ mostly stilled hand on his own prick, and his stern face. His chest heaving with the breath rushing in and out of his lungs. He was clearly close to spending, but was he close enough? Childermass didn’t care. “Two.” He increased his pace a little, squeezed a little tighter on his grip on Lascelles’ cock and watched as Lascelles’ mouth gaped open and his eyes screwed shut. “One” he pronounced, and was pleased to hear and feel Lascelles come apart completely. The ginger haired man beneath him let out a ragged, broken cry and thrust up into Childermass’ hand and Childermass could feel the hot, slick evidence of his ejaculation spilling over his knuckles and his palm. 

He obligingly stroked Lascelles through his orgasm, delighting in the changing expressions on his face as he gasped and cried out. The second he felt the man come down the other side of that peak, he scooted forward. It took only a few seconds of swift stroking, combined with looking down at Lascelles beautiful, flushed face before he felt himself explode in pleasure. He aimed his cock and shot spurt after spurt of hot come across Lascelles cheeks and nose and mouth. Some reached as far as his forehead and hair. Lascelles opened his mouth wider to catch a few stray droplets and Childermass grunted in satisfaction as pulse after pulse of pleasure twisted low in his gut. 

Once he had squeezed every ounce of come from his cock, he took a brief moment to admire his handiwork, the white splatters and drips of semen cooling against Lascelles high cheekbones and flushed cheeks, then he took pity on the man and untied him. Lascelles scrubbed at his face with a handful of Childermass’ bedsheets, then glared at Childermass. 

“You should sleep here tonight,” Childermass said, already feeling a post orgasmic drowsiness coming up to drag him under. He himself grabbed a different corner of the bedsheet to clean off his hand of Lascelles come, before tossing it out of bed onto the floor and pulling a blanket up over his legs and lower body.

“Fuck you,” Lascelles said, seeming to settle on a specific theme this evening. “I’m leaving.” 

“Suit yourself,” Childermass lay back, naked, warm and satisfied, running a hand lazily over his belly and gazing indolently up at Lascelles with sleepy eyes. “Its warm and comfortable though.”

Lascelles, who at this point had put one foot out of the bed in order to get out of it, paused, seeming to consider his options. Without speaking, he settled back in the bed, lying on his back, stiff as a board. 

“What are you doing all the way over there?” Childermass asked, patting the mattress near him and grinning. 

“Piss off.” Lascelles replied. 

Childermass saw that the man was deeply entrenched in his spoilt brat routine and that he’d have to do everything himself. He scooted closer and snaked one arm behind Lascelles neck, wrapping the other around the man’s long waist and pulled him into a warm embrace. To his surprise, Lascelles gave in immediately. Softening, going limp, turning in Childermass’ arms to wrap his own arms around Childermass in response. Soon they were fully pressed together in a warm tangle of limbs. Childermass stroked Lascelles’ hair and kissed his cheek, just to be brave, and the man submitted to this gentle treatment, even letting out a soft noise that sounded like a satisfied sigh. 

They fell asleep that way, wrapped in each other’s arms.


End file.
